


Heart's Desire

by notallballs (notallbees)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Crossover, Final Haikyuu Quest, First Kiss, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallballs
Summary: "Are you cosplaying right now?" Morisuke demanded."I don't know what you mean by that," Kuroo said, turning his nose up. "But I should have introduced myself. My name is Kuroo, I'm a demon from—"Morisuke groaned loudly. "We don't have time for this, come on." He grabbed the front of Kuroo's jacket and tugged him forward. "We're late for practice."Yaku has enough trouble dealing with his own Kuroo, without a demonic lookalike showing up and making him late for practice.





	Heart's Desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [helwolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/gifts).



> I finally got around to rewriting this piece from last year's saso! Slowly doing my part to keep the kuroyaku ship sailing :3c

It was Thursday, also known as the worst day of the week. Morisuke had cleanup duties on Thursday afternoons, which meant he was always late to evening practice, and Kuroo—who by virtue of being team captain was _never_ stuck with afternoon clean up—took great delight in taunting him about his tardiness. Every. Single. Week. 

Knowing that teasing was inevitable, Morisuke dragged his heels instead of hurrying as he usually would. It was their last practice before Nationals. They had been tapering all week, and would rest for the next two days before the competition began. Morisuke was already antsy, even though the wait hadn't even really begun yet. He hated to be inactive, particularly when he was nervous, or had something preying on his mind. Having the national championships hanging over his head was bad enough, without the added worry of upcoming exams, and university entrance fears on top.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that Morisuke didn't see the errant heel sticking out of the art classroom until he tripped over it, stumbling for several clumsy steps before he righted himself. He straightened up, doing a quick self inventory, and breathing out a sigh of relief when he found that he wasn't hurt. There couldn't be a worse time to get injured than right before a tournament, unless it was _during_ one. Morisuke pushed that dark thought away and turned instead to berate the owner of the heel.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're—" 

Morisuke trailed off when the offending foot owner turned around, and he saw that it was Kuroo. At least, he was fairly sure it was Kuroo, but he looked for a moment so incongruous that Morisuke's brain couldn't compute what his eyes were seeing. 

"...Kuroo?"

"Aha!" Kuroo said, a broad grin stealing across his face. "There you are, I've been looking for you."

Morisuke's brow creased. "I had clean up," he said, shoulders lifting in anticipation of the inevitable jabs about his timekeeping. "Just like every other week. What's your excuse?" He gave Kuroo a brief once over, frown deepening. "And why the hell are you dressed like that?"

Kuroo was wearing a long red cape, and something that looked like a black gakuran underneath but with fancy gold trim around the edges. On his feet he wore knee high leather boots. 

"What is this?" Morisuke asked, looking him up and down again. "Are you cosplaying right now?" he demanded. 

"I don't know what you mean by that," Kuroo said, turning his nose up. "But I should have introduced myself. My name is Kuroo, I'm a demon from—"

Morisuke groaned loudly. "We don't have time for this, come on." He grabbed the front of Kuroo's jacket and tugged him forward. "We're late for practice, and Nekomata will—"

"Nekomata?" Kuroo asked, tugging out of his grasp easily. "You've consorted with demons before?"

"What?" Morisuke asked, tossing him an irritated look. "Stop pissing about, okay?"

Kuroo grinned again. "Aha, you don't think I'm serious in my pursuit!" He leaned closer, close enough for Morisuke to feel Kuroo's breath on his cheek. The sensation made his ears burn. "I assure you, I am quite determined."

Morisuke sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me again who you think you're supposed to be?"

"Like I said," Kuroo said. "I'm a demon. An eater of worlds, corrupter of souls, a weaver of dark magic. You mortals really are lacking some basic comprehension skills, huh?"

Morisuke lashed out so quickly, Kuroo didn't even have a chance to dodge, and he yelped when Morisuke landed a solid kick to his upper thigh. 

"Hey! What the heck?" Kuroo complained, clutching at his leg.

"We have Nationals in three days, you asshat! Just because today is a short practice doesn't mean you can fuck ar—uh, mess around in the hallway." Morisuke corrected himself without thinking, but when he glanced around he realised that the hall was strangely empty. No students hurrying to after school clubs, or to the bus stop. No teachers patrolling, looking for stragglers or slackers. "Hey...where is everyone?"

Kuroo, still pouting and rubbing at the injured spot on his thigh, shrugged. "Gone, for now. I made everyone absent so we could talk."

Morisuke wondered if there was a full body equivalent of pinching the bridge of your nose, because he felt like he needed it. "Kuroo—"

"And that's another thing, mortal," Kuroo said, straightening up and folding his arms. "How do you know my name?"

Morisuke covered his face with a sigh. "Can you just stop?" he asked in a tired voice. "I can't deal with practice, and stressing about this weekend, and now this—whatever this bullshit it."

Kuroo leaned closer to him again, looking interested. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"Of course," Morisuke snorted. "But we're already late, we can't just—"

Halfway through his sentence, Kuroo took hold of Morisuke's shoulders, pulling him closer. Morisuke had half a second to meet Kuroo's eyes before they narrowed, and then closed, and then Kuroo kissed him firmly. 

His mouth was warm, and slightly damp as though he'd licked his lips right before leaning in. Morisuke had never been kissed before, and he was so stunned by it that a few seconds passed before he flinched away again, his eyes widening. 

"Kuroo—what the _fuck_? What are you—" Morisuke sputtered. Then he trailed off, looking around himself uneasily. "Uh, Kuroo? Where are we?" 

The Hallway had faded away; they now stood in a forest, with mossy grass beneath their feet, and the loud chatter of birds in the air. 

"Oh, good," Kuroo said, looking around as he straightened up. "I wasn't sure that would work over such a large distance."

Kuroo looked entirely unruffled by what had just happened. His face was calm as he scanned the clearing around them, apparently unconcerned that he'd just stolen Morisuke's first kiss, that he'd undermined several months of hard work Morisuke had put into pretending he didn't want to yank Kuroo down by his neatly-tied school tie and find out what his mouth tasted like. 

Well, now he knew the answer to that at least. It felt rather anticlimactic. 

"Kuroo," Morisuke said in an unsteady voice. "What the fuck?

Kuroo turned to him and started to smile, the kind of maniacal grin usually reserved for tense matches. "I transported us," he said. "Back to Oikawa's realm."

"Realm—?"

"The spell needs skin contact to transport another person, sorry for taking liberties." Kuroo's grin widened. He looked anything but sorry.

Morisuke stepped back, and gave him another solid kick in the behind. 

"Ai—! What was that for!?"

"What kind of sorry excuse is that for kissing someone?" Morisuke demanded, his face flaming. "If you're going to be a prick and joke about it, at least do it like a man."

Kuroo's eyes widened. "Uh, sorry."

"Forget it," Morisuke muttered, turning away to hide his red face. He glanced around him, at the densely growing trees, feeling the cool, damp air on his skin. A shudder of unease rolled over him. "Kuroo," he said slowly. "Please tell me this is a prank."

"You mean—a trick?" Kuroo asked.

Morisuke gritted his teeth. "Exactly."

"No trick," Kuroo said. He leaned over, moving into Morisuke's field of vision. "Are you impressed?"

Scowling, Morisuke jabbed back with his left elbow, and smiled grimly when it made contact, and Kuroo crumpled like a paper crane under someone's fist. He looked around a few moments more, then turned to Kuroo, setting his hands on his hips. Somehow, Kuroo's ridiculous outfit looked more at home in this place, less like something his mum had helped him throw together for an anime convention. And, Morisuke noticed for the first time, he had horns on either side of his head, which in the dim flickering light looked surprisingly real.

"Alright," Morisuke said, looking up at him sternly. "Tell me what's going on. The truth. Right now."

Kuroo winced, and reached up to ruffle the back of his hair. A painfully familiar gesture. "I've been watching you mortal—"

"Yaku," Morisuke said impatiently. "Drop this 'mortal' crap. If you really were such a powerful demon, wouldn't you at least know my name?"

Kuroo's answering smile was more of a grimace. "Of course I know your name," he said, leaning closer. "But I cannot use it until you give it to me."

Morisuke squinted at him. "What kind of bullshit—"

They were interrupted by a distant, but very audible sound of drumming. 

"We should get going," Kuroo said, reaching for his hand. "We'll miss the festival."

"What festival?" Morisuke demanded, snatching his hand out of Kuroo's. "We need to get to practice, the tournament—okay, seriously, _where are we_?"

Kuroo grinned down at him. "I came to invite you to the fertility festival. Will you be my partner?" 

" _What_?"

Kuroo clicked his fingers, and Morisuke felt the uncomfortable sensation of his clothes pulling at him from every direction at once. When he looked down, his school uniform had been replaced by some dorky looking robes. They were even worse than Kuroo's. But that, if nothing else, convinced him of what he'd already known. 

Morisuke swallowed, before looking slowly up. "You're not Kuroo, are you?"

"I'm _a_ Kuroo," Kuroo said, with that infuriating smirk that Morisuke could never choose between punching or kissing off his face."And you are?"

"Did you hit your head?"

Kuroo whined. "I just told you, I can't use your name unless you tell it to me."

"Did _I_ hit my head?"

"I don't think so."

Morisuke groaned. "Alright. I'm Yaku."

Kuroo grinned at him. "You're marvellous." He held out his hand again, and after a moment's hesitation, Morisuke took it.

"Shut up," he said, flushing scarlet. 

Kuroo laughed. 

 

—

 

The festival was a sight to behold. Kuroo had led him to a nearby town, which was built within the walls of a stone castle. It was dusk as they arrived, and Morisuke couldn't help wondering if time was passing just the same back home. Practice would already be halfway over. Had they noticed he was gone? Had they gone looking? Of course, Shibayama and Kenma would have noticed right away. Kuroo would too, but whether he would say anything was another matter.

"What's wrong?" Kuroo asked, tugging on his arm. 

Kuroo had yet to let go of his hand, but then, Morisuke hadn't let go either. He would have, but as they approached the town the crowds of people grew more dense, and if Morisuke really _was_ in an alien land and not just having some kind of breakdown, he really didn't want to get separated from the one person who could, presumably, get him home again. 

"Nothing's wrong," Morisuke replied, his voice a little snappish. "I'm just in some magical crazy land with, apparently, a demon version of my best friend who thinks it's okay to go around—k-kissing people, and inviting them to _fertility festivals_ , and—" Morisuke groaned, finally pulling his hand free of Kuroo's so he could cover his entire face. "What the hell am I doing here?"

After a moment, Kuroo took hold of Morisuke's wrists and tugged gently. Morisuke didn't relent, but he did part his fingers so he could peek through them.

"Yaku," Kuroo said, his voice low and wonderful. "If you want to leave, I can have you home in a moment. But I know that you've been unhappy. Just for one night, why not let yourself be happy?"

There were small differences between this Kuroo and his own—the horns a particularly striking one—but his voice, that look of concern that put a small crinkle between his brows, were so familiar that Morisuke's stomach hurt. He sighed and let his hands drop to his sides, revealing his flushed cheeks. "I guess," he muttered, but then a thought crossed his mind, and he reached out and punched Kuroo in the shoulder. "Just how long have you been watching me, you creep?"

Kuroo yelped and clutched his arm. "Yaku!" he hissed, eyes wide. "If I'd known you were going to be so violent I would have picked someone else!" 

"Well, you didn't," Morisuke said, feeling faintly pleased about it. He hooked his arm through Kuroo's undamaged one, feeling braver than he ever did back home. "Let's get this over with."

At first, it was much like visiting a local festival back home. There were stalls serving food, and lanterns strung around the square, and the dark red robe Kuroo had dressed him in was much like the winter kimono his mother always made him wear at New Year. Morisuke soon grew brave, leading Kuroo from one stall to another to sample all the different foods. Kuroo followed obediently, watching him with an indulgent expression, gently teasing. 

It was oddly familiar, and yet it was quieter than being around the Kuroo he knew. Less taunts and jabs, and they were missing the shared language of inside jokes and mutual dislikes. Instead the silence was filled with casual touches, and lingering looks. 

At one point Morisuke lifted his head, still chewing what he was pretty sure was chicken, when Kuroo reached up and rubbed his thumb over Morisuke's cheek, catching the corner of his mouth with it. 

"You had some sauce there," Kuroo said, watching Morisuke's wide eyes, then dropping to his open mouth. "Or were you saving that for later?"

Morisuke snapped his mouth shut and looked away, cheeks flaming. 

But it only got worse from there.

"Thirsty, Yaku?" Kuroo asked, slipping an arm around his shoulder and leading him to yet another stall.

Kuroo was warm against him; it was no wonder he was warm with all those clothes on, but the heat of his body so close did something appalling to Morisuke's heartbeat, making it flutter in his chest.

"Yaku?"

"Huh?"

Kuroo grinned at him and pushed a cup into his hands. "Have some wine."

Morisuke looked down at the cup, then squinted up at Kuroo. "Are you stupid?"

Kuroo blinked. "What?"

"I'm not old enough to drink, dumbass," Morisuke said, shoving the cup back at him. 

To his annoyance, Kuroo burst out laughing. "We have no such foolish restrictions here," he said, holding the cup out again, apparently unconcerned that Morisuke had spilled half of it down his fancy gold-trimmed jacket. "Try a little, it will get you in the mood."

Morisuke took the cup, but narrowed his eyes at Kuroo. "In the mood for what, exactly?" he asked in a measured tone.

Kuroo beamed. "For dancing."

"What!?" Morisuke said, almost spilling his drink again. "No, no way. I don't dance. And definitely not with you."

"There's no need to be embarrassed," Kuroo murmured, slipping his arm around Morisuke's waist. His hand strayed dangerously low, but he thankfully resisted letting himself touch Morisuke's ass. Morisuke would've had to do something serious, like stomp on his foot, or break his fingers. 

Fed up of being made to blush so much, Morisuke glared up at Kuroo, then brought the cup to his lips and took a long swig. The wine was sweet and dry, lingering on the back of his tongue. "Who's embarrassed?" he said when he was done, wiping his mouth on the back of his wrist. He held Kuroo's dark gaze for several moments, until Kuroo laughed and glanced away. 

"I'm glad you agreed to join me, Yaku," he said, reaching for a cup of his own. 

"Did you forget the part where you kissed me and brought me here without asking?" Morisuke growled. 

Demon or not, Kuroo had the decency to look a little sheepish. "Didn't you like it?"

"It's not important if I liked it," Morisuke said crossly. "Where I'm from you're supposed to ask first."

Kuroo frowned, apparently considering this. "Then I'll ask next time."

Morisuke's heart fluttered again. "What's that supposed to mean, 'next time'?"

But Kuroo just grinned, and topped up Morisuke's wine before leading him away into the crowd again. 

It was just as well the square was so busy. It made conversation difficult, what with the clamour of so many conversations, and the sound of the musicians playing at one side, but Morisuke was grateful for the noise. Every time Kuroo brushed against him, or Morisuke caught a glimpse of his familiar profile, he wanted to say something, to share some old joke, but after trying once he'd realised that this Kuroo was very different to his own. This Kuroo may have looked right, but Morisuke didn't really know him. 

After finishing his wine, Morisuke felt Kuroo's arm go around his waist again, and didn't move to stop him. Instead he leaned closer, pressing his head against Kuroo's shoulder, imagining for a moment that it was his own Kuroo, that he could smell the scent of Kuroo's school uniform, his shampoo. 

"Will you dance with me, Yaku?"

Morisuke blinked up at him. He felt warm and soft, and ever so slightly floaty. The thought of dancing in front of strangers still made him wince, but simply standing beside Kuroo didn't feel like enough. He wanted to be closer, so he nodded, turning to face him. 

"Just don't tread on my feet with your big clown shoes," he said, glancing down at Kuroo's ridiculous boots. They made his legs look really, really good. Morisuke was annoyed about it.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Kuroo said, flashing him a hint of sharp teeth. He took Morisuke's hand, and led him over to the part of the square where people were dancing, coloured robes and dresses swirling in the lantern light. Kuroo drew him closer, settling his hands on Morisuke's waist. "Have you danced before?"

Morisuke drew a sharp breath at the feeling of Kuroo's hands on him, and shook his head. Then he frowned, wincing. "Well, kind of. They used to teach us in elementary school."

Kuroo laughed. He took hold of one of Morisuke's uselessly hovering hands and drew it up around his neck, then reached for his hip again and tugged him closer, until their chests pressed together. "That's a start," he murmured, lowering his head slightly. "But you haven't really danced until you've danced with someone you desired."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Morisuke asked, but his voice came out hoarse, lacking the ire he had intended. He couldn't look away from Kuroo's eyes. When he tried to loosen his grip, his fingers instead tangled more tightly in the fabric of Kuroo's red cape. "Are you—doing something to me?" he mumbled.

Kuroo shook his head, beginning to sway the two of them gently. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just looking at you."

"Then don't," Morisuke said, though he didn't tear his own gaze away. 

"I can't help it," Kuroo murmured, hands tightening on Morisuke's hips. "You're beautiful."

Morisuke's face and ears turned scarlet. "You're embarrassing." His fingers strayed up, brushing through the short hair at the back of Kuroo's neck. It was softer than he'd imagined. 

As they stared at one another, Kuroo's hands moved higher, sliding up Morisuke's back. "Yaku," he murmured, lowering his head.

This time, Morisuke was the first to close his eyes. Kuroo kissed him a moment later, sure and soft, one hand slipping up to cup the back of his head, turning him gently to accommodate the kiss. 

Morisuke's heart buzzed in his throat like a hummingbird. He wanted to pull away, and at the same time he wanted to pull Kuroo closer and bite his mouth, suck on his tongue, fist a hand in his hair. He settled for kissing back with equal, if unpractised fervour, mindless of the shifting crowd around them.

They drew apart at last, Morisuke breathless and Kuroo smug. 

"Not bad," Kuroo said, curling his fingers against Morisuke's hot cheek. "For a virgin."

The warm mix of embarrassment and pleasure coursing through him soured instantly, turning to humiliation and rage. Morisuke put his hands against Kuroo's chest and pushed away, his mouth open in silent, spitting fury. He was too angry for words, his hands shaking as he broke out of Kuroo's arms and stumbled away a few steps. 

"Yaku, what's wrong?"

"You are!" Morisuke snarled. "You—you're wrong. Kuroo wouldn't—"

But he froze. Kuroo was attractive, and popular—how could he not be, as the captain of the team that was going to Nationals; even people who knew what a big dork he was had started looking at him with grudging respect—so maybe Kuroo wasn't as hopeless and inexperienced as Morisuke was. Maybe he _would_ laugh at Morisuke's complete failure to even kiss someone before graduating high school. Before tonight, at least. Assuming tonight even counted. Morisuke still wasn't completely convinced that this was anything more than a very vivid dream. 

"What is it, Yaku?" Kuroo asked, coming closer again. "Don't be angry, I was only trying to compliment you."

That sounded so much like something Kuroo would say that Morisuke let out a short bark of laughter. "Right," he muttered. "Because you're a demon. I forgot."

Kuroo's smile glinted. "That's a dangerous thing to forget."

"I think I can handle you," Morisuke said, reaching out to grab a fistful of Kuroo's robe. He leaned in, and Kuroo met his movements with a pleased smile, sliding his arms around Morisuke's waist again and beginning to move him to the music. 

They danced until they couldn't breathe, and Morisuke was sweating in his thick robe. Kuroo brought him more wine, and Morisuke barely hesitated before downing the cup. 

"Having fun yet?"

Morisuke glanced up at him. Kuroo was leaning over him, his height dizzying at this angle—he was even taller in those boots—and his gaze heavy with something Morisuke didn't recognise.

"Maybe," Morisuke said, just to be difficult. A pleasant haze surrounded him, from the wine he was sure, and it made him braver than normal. "You should kiss me again," he said, tugging at the front of Kuroo's robe. "I'd do it, but you're too far away up there."

Kuroo's laughter was low and filthy. "If you prefer, we can go somewhere more private."

Morisuke's insides shivered. He ran his hand along the collar of Kuroo's robe. It was almost the same red as their jerseys, but this Kuroo didn't smell like the one back home. He smelled like bonfires, and like the wine they'd been drinking—though that might have been thanks to Morisuke spilling it on him earlier. Slowly, he curled the fingers of his other hand into Kuroo's robe and tugged him down, until their noses were almost touching. Morisuke closed his eyes, imagining what it would feel like to do this with his Kuroo. Not that he would ever get to.

"What's wrong?" Kuroo asked, touching Morisuke's furrowed brow with his fingertip. "Why aren't you happy?"

Morisuke shook his head, letting his hands unclench from Kuroo's robe. "I want to go home," he mumbled, hanging his head. 

Kuroo laughed under his breath. "That's not how this works, beautiful," he said, hooking a finger under Morisuke's jaw and tilting his face up. His nail was sharp, almost like a claw. "You agreed to join me for the duration of the festival. Tonight, you belong to me."

"Let me go," Morisuke said, trying to pull free. But it was no use. Whether by more magic, or just by dint of being bigger and stronger, Kuroo held him firm. His fingers dug into Morisuke's cheeks, and between one blink and the next Morisuke found himself in an echoing hallway, the crowds and music vanished from sight. 

Kuroo finally released him, and Morisuke stumbled back against the stone wall. "Where are we now?" he snapped, straightening up. He jabbed a finger at Kuroo. "You take me home, right now."

"Oh, I don't think so," Kuroo snarled, stalking closer. He pressed Morisuke up against the wall, bracketing him with his arms so that there was no escape. "You promised yourself to me for tonight," he said, his voice low and sticky like syrup. 

Morisuke's face burned. "I did not," he said, indignance barely winning out over the terror that was slowly crawling up the inside of his chest. There was nobody in sight, nobody to call out to, nowhere to run when he didn't know where he was going. Kuroo was bearing down on him, his dark eyes glowing, making his face look sharper, unfamiliar. _Demon_ , Morisuke thought, mentally kicking himself. _Probably should've paid a little more attention to that part._.

Kuroo leaned closer, but before he could touch Morisuke, there was a heavy sigh from behind him. Morisuke's eyes widened, and he tried to lean around to see, but Kuroo merely groaned and straightened up again.

"What is it, Kenma?"

Morisuke jerked his head to the side so fast he felt something in his neck click. Sure enough, behind Kuroo stood Kenma. Or at least someone who looked a lot like Kenma, except that he was wearing a long white cloak, and carrying a big stick. 

"What the—Kenma?"

Kuroo didn't even turn around. "I'm a little busy here, Kenma," he said, his voice testy. 

Kenma sighed again, and rolled his eyes. "This won't bring him back."

Morisuke frowned at them both. "Bring who back?"

"Shut up, Kenma," Kuroo said, sounding more resigned than annoyed. "I've got a virgin to deal with here."

"Hey," Morisuke snapped. He lifted his foot, and brought it down as hard as he could on Kuroo's toes. "Stop bringing that up!" 

Kuroo yelled in pain, while Kenma snorted softly. 

"Come on," Kenma said, gesturing for Morisuke to follow him. Kuroo was hopping around on his uninjured foot, clutching the other one and swearing profusely. 

Morisuke sidestepped him and darted after Kenma. "So," he said, glancing back over his shoulder. "Are you a demon too?"

Kenma snorted again. "I'm a mage."

"Of course you are."

"Why did you come?" Kenma's eyes slid over to him, his gaze just as piercing as it was back home, despite his disinterested expression. 

Morisuke frowned. "I asked you a question first."

"I said I'm not a demon."

"No," Morisuke said. "Who does K—that guy, who does he want to bring back?"

Kenma's expression clouded. "His lover," he said, his monotone voice somehow making the statement more miserable. "His name is Yaku too."

"Oh." Morisuke looked over his shoulder along the hallway. The demon Kuroo still stood where they had left him, his shoulders slumped. "What happened to him?"

"Oikawa banished him."

"Can't he just...go get him?"

Kenma shook his head. "Banished him to another world. Kuroo went looking for him. That's how he found you."

"Oh."

"Come on then," Kenma said, surprising Morisuke by taking his hand. "Let's send you home."

Morisuke turned and looked back at Kuroo again. "What if he comes after me again?"

"He won't," Kenma said, his voice steely. He squeezed Morisuke's hand tightly. "Goodbye, Yaku."

 

—

 

"Yakkun. Yakkun, wake up."

"Are you sure he's okay?"

"How should I know? Lev, stop poking him like that!" 

"But I'm worried about Yaku-san!" 

"Yamamoto, get him out of here—"

"Kuro, stop shouting."

Morisuke opened his eyes reluctantly. It took him several moments to realise where he was, but slowly the dingy clubroom resolved itself around him, with several of his teammates in the foreground, looking down at him with anxious expressions. Kuroo was the closest, leaning over him, his hand resting on Morisuke's chest.

"Get off me," Morisuke said in a hoarse voice.

Kuroo's eyes widened. "Yakkun, are you okay? Did you fall?"

"Did he fall!?" Lev shouted from somewhere behind Kuroo. 

"No, I—"Morisuke sat up, realising as he did so that he was lying on the floor of the clubroom. Someone's red jacket had been rolled up beneath his head. "When did I get here?"

"Practice just finished," Shibayama put in. He was down near Morisuke's feet, his face drawn and pale.

Kuroo took Morisuke's shoulders and leaned in close again, peering into his face. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"

"I still think maybe we should call an ambulance," Kai said.

"No, no," Morisuke said, shaking his head. It made him slightly dizzy, but he gritted his teeth through it. Kuroo was still close enough for Morisuke to feel the warmth of his breath on his cheek, and he shuddered a little, remembering the discomfort of the demon Kuroo pressing him against the wall. Morisuke groaned, and pushed Kuroo away. "I'm fine. I just—I skipped lunch, I must have made myself dizzy."

"Skipped lunch?" Kuroo demanded. "Are you crazy? We have Nationals in a few days—"

"I'm well aware," Morisuke snapped at him. His harsh tone rang across the clubroom, silencing the half dozen quiet conversations that were going on around him. 

Kai gently pushed Kuroo back, inserting himself between them. "Can you stand?" he asked, holding his hand out to Morisuke. 

Morisuke took Kai's hand and stood, shaking off the last of his dizziness. Kuroo meanwhile retreated, noisily herding the rest of the team out of the clubroom and assuring them that Yaku was _fine_ and _no he would not be missing the tournament_ and _Lev would you shut up already_.

"My head hurts," Morisuke groaned, watching him from across the clubroom. 

"Did you hit it when you fell?" Kai asked, gripping his shoulder tightly. 

Morisuke gave a quiet grunt of dissent. He was fairly sure the headache was from the wine he'd drunk at the festival. Morisuke straightened up, eyes widening. Had there even been a festival? Maybe he really had hit his head and dreamed the whole thing. 

"Someone should take him home," Kai was saying.

"I'm fine," Morisuke said in vague protest, turning around to hunt for his school bag. Half his school books had fallen out, and he swore as he knelt down to pile them back in.

"I'll go with him."

"Alright."

"Night, Yaku."

Morisuke turned around finally, clutching his bag. Everyone had left already, except for one remaining person, broad shoulders blocking the doorway so that there was nowhere to run. 

"Yakkun," Kuroo said softly. 

Morisuke's shoulders tensed. "I have to get home."

"I'll walk you."

"I'm not a dog."

"Yaku," Kuroo said, groaning. "Indulge me, okay? I just want to make sure you don't die before Saturday."

Morisuke scowled. "Do what you want," he muttered, before shouldering past Kuroo and out into the cold evening air. He started to walk, doing his best to ignore the jangle of Kuroo's keys behind him. Twenty or thirty seconds passed, and then Kuroo jogged up behind him, bumping him gently with an elbow as he fell in step.

"How're you feeling now?"

Morisuke winced. Every time Kuroo spoke, he heard that other Kuroo's voice in his head. _Kuroo wouldn't,_ he assured himself. _Kuroo wouldn't do that._

"Fine."

"You sure? I won't laugh if you have to throw up."

"I'm not gonna throw up," Morisuke snapped. 

They walked the rest of the way to the bus stop in silence. When they got there, a bus had just left, and they settled down to wait for the next. 

"Hey, Yakkun—"

"What."

Kuroo laughed softly. "Nothing, forget it."

"Fine."

After a moment, Kuroo sat down on the bench, and Morisuke unthinkingly stepped closer, not realising he'd done so until Kuroo looked up with a grin. 

"Hey," Kuroo said softly, and Morisuke's insult died on his tongue. 

Whether it had been real or a dream, Morisuke could still recall the sensation of Kuroo's mouth against his, the surprising warmth of his tongue, of sure hands moving over his body. Without thinking, he reached out and ran his fingers through Kuroo's hair. Kuroo's eyes fell shut, and he leaned into the touch like a cat, body listing toward Morisuke. 

"Hey," Morisuke whispered back. 

Kuroo hummed, but didn't open his eyes. A terrible compulsion rose in Morisuke's chest, suffocating him. His arms had pins and needles. He moved closer, his hand sliding down to cup Kuroo's cheek. 

_Don't_ , he thought, desperately. _You can't take it back_.

Kuroo's eyes opened a sliver. He caught Morisuke's gaze, and held it. As Morisuke watched, the pink tip of Kuroo's tongue poked out, wetting his lower lip. The street was deserted. Kuroo's eyes widened slightly as Morisuke leaned in. 

When their lips touched, Kuroo gasped softly and clutched at Morisuke's sleeve. It was brief, and not nearly as smooth or coordinated as when _other_ Kuroo had kissed him, but it made Morisuke's heart hammer in his throat, and liquid heat filled his chest.

"Yakkun," Kuroo murmured as they broke apart.

Morisuke's face was aflame. "Shut up."

Kuroo opened his eyes. He was smiling, but it wasn't his usual smug grin. It made his face softer. 

"You kissed me."

"You imagined it," Morisuke said, looking away from him.

Kuroo laughed. "You kissed me!"

"Keep your voice down," Morisuke hissed, but an unsettled feeling crawled around in his chest. He realised he'd done exactly what he'd berated the demon Kuroo for doing, and kissed without asking first. "Is that—bad?" he muttered.

"Huh?"

"That I...did that," Morisuke mumbled, lowering his head until his mouth was almost completely hidden in his jacket. 

Kuroo sat back. "Oh. No, it wasn't bad."

Morisuke's chest eased, but he still couldn't bring himself to look up. Kuroo's fingers were still hooked in his sleeve, but Morisuke didn't make him let go. Their legs were touching. Neither of them moved away.

"Hey—" Kuroo began.

The heavy exhalation of the bus pulling up behind them made Morisuke jump, launching himself to a safe distance from Kuroo. 

"Damn," Kuroo muttered, getting to his feet. "Come on, Yakkun."

"You don't even take this bus," Morisuke protested. 

"I can take this bus."

"Oi! Are you kids getting on or not?"

Kuroo strode over to the open door, and gestured for Morisuke to get on.

"After you," Morisuke said, turning away to hunt for his commuter pass. "Grab us a decent seat."

Kuroo nodded, grinning, and turned away to hunt for somewhere to sit. As soon as his back was turned, Morisuke grabbed his bag and sprinted in the opposite direction. To his relief, the bus driver was either an ally, or fed up, because he drove off without giving Kuroo a chance to disembark. 

Morisuke sprinted for three blocks, until he was out of breath, before slowing to a walk to take him the rest of the way to the train station. Just as he was reflecting on the pros and cons of taking the train instead—faster, but more expensive; more importantly, no Kuroo (but was that a pro or a con?)—his phone buzzed with a text.

_you can run but you can't hide, yakkun_

Morisuke groaned. _who is this?_

_we're gonna talk about that tomorrow >:(_  
_and maybe do it again…?_

"Who the fuck uses ellipses in a text," Morisuke muttered, laughing. "You are fifty years old."

 _in your dreams_ , he wrote back.

_sometimes ;)_

Morisuke's entire face heated again. _GOOD NIGHT ASSHAT_

_goodnight yakkun :3c_

Morisuke turned to walk toward the station, laughing to himself. The air around him shivered, and just for a moment he caught a flash of red and gold out of the corner of his eye.

When he whipped round to look, there was nothing there.

**Author's Note:**

> You can share this on [tumblr](https://notallballs.tumblr.com/post/172322613462/hearts-desire-notallballs-notallbees) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/978760018593046531)!


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